


Because in this, we are idiots.

by pettylina



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Camp, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettylina/pseuds/pettylina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Sherlock and John go to two different camp next to each other. They meet in the woods and stuff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm the hero of the story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this story a while ago, writing again, revamped it and re-edited it

John Watson is your average camp goer. By average we mean sixteen almost seventeen, male, Londoner and with a distanced appreciation of nature. That of course goes to hell in a hand basket at Cliffs camp. Three hours south of civilization (by civilization we mean London) smack dab in the middle of the wilderness.

This is John's first year at Cliffs all boys camp. John being very male and very seventeen isn't as distraught over the whole all boys thing as you may think. He had been to soccer camp for a couple of weeks some few years back and he enjoyed that just fine, two and a half months was nothing to be worried about…at all. He is sure of it.

His mum drove him to camp, and it isn't as embarrassing once you actually get to camp and see all the other kids with their mums. It is almost always guaranteed that one mum is more embarrassingly hysteric than yours. John steps out of the car and like every city dweller who rarely ventures into the wild, is awestruck with how much environment there actually exists. When you spend your days surrounded by buildings and potted plants, it's hard to believe that wildlife exists outside of Animal Planet.

Kisses are exchanged, promises of phone calls are made and off they go. The somewhat bright, somewhat ashen faces of Britain's youth ready for another year at Cliffs camp.

***

John is a little wary of all the new faces around him. He’s good at making friends but when surrounded by so many unknown people, it’s hard not to think that maybe nobody is going to get along with you.

***

He is stationed at Cabin 7A.

***

"Okay listen up people, first timers, and welcome, breathe it in, yes that is what air is supposed to feel like. My name is Kevin, hi, yes; sure everyone is pleased to meet me. Now, with all that new oxygen your brains have to process I'm sure some of you may be starving. Lunch today is at 1 PM, it is 11 AM now. We will be dividing into groups and going to our cabins and then we will all meet for lunch at the mess hall. Then we have a guided tour of our facilities and the some getting to know each other time. Now, your cabin assignments have letters, we will split up into those letters, A's over there, B's with me..."

Having heard his letter John picks his bag up and goes to join the clump of other teenagers he assumes to be A.

"Hey", a voice from behind John says, "I see you're 7A, guess we're going to be roommates, my name is Mike". 'Mike' moves his bags to one hand and motions to shake hands with John. "John," he smirks and shakes his hand. As the party starts moving forward Mike and John move with them.

"So this must be your first time at the camp, right? So tell me, did you voluntarily choose to be placed here or was it by force" Mike says this with a friendly smile.

"How do you know it's my first year here?" John says with a soft chuckle.

"I was here last year, while I don't know everyone, I do remember the recurring faces, and you're not one of them. Anyway we lucked out by being in A block. The counselors assigned to block A have been here for a while so they don't have anything to prove. Let us get away with murder, they do."

Listening to Mike talk about the camp John can't help but be relieved. “Christ, this is going to be fun then."

***

To answer Mike's previous question about how John ended up at Cliff’s camp, it was a bit of both. His mum and dad were traveling for work this summer, and they both refused to carry the 'burden' of John with them. He could theoretically stay home alone, but since there was nothing guaranteeing he wouldn't cause havoc on the neighbors he was shipped off to camp. Knowing this, he decided to pick this camp, recommended by a friend and the internet.

***

"And that's how I came here, a friend of a friend used to come here, said it was fun, and helped him with his sport and stuff. Last year before uni, better have as much fun as I can."

They kept on walking for a while in calm silence until they reached the cabin. The outside looked like a regular log cabin, while the inside was more or less like… well a prison, concrete walls, concrete floors, concrete roof. Well, John thinks, at least that small carpet his mum had made him bring would come in handy; he hates cold floors in the morning. There are two beds, one a bunk bed, the other a single. At the end of each is a corresponding camp trunk. There is one mirror attached to the wall facing the door and under it a small sink. Power outlets do exist and as luck would have it there is a mini fridge (should really be mini-mini, he'll be lucky if he can store a water bottle in there) and a microwave which John doubts has any useful wattage to it. All in all, it looked homely.

***

"So Johnny boy, what do you think of the palace?"

"Well it clearly did a lot to deserve that name now didn't it"

Throwing his bags on the bunk bed (Mike claimed the single), and changing out his shoes for more comfortable trainers, John waits for Mike to lead the way to lunch.

***

John is seated at a round table (the one that had the chairs attached to it, much to his excitement the wood was real) on his right hand was Mike, and on his left is Alexander. Alexander is a tall-ish, somewhat brown somewhat red haired male who smelled of limes and was quite frankly a very fast, but amusing speaker. Besides that he wasn't really sure who else was seated at the table. They never bothered to introduce themselves, and they somehow already know he is John. He knows for sure that one of them was named Hector.

The food is admirable for a camp, a simple roast beef sandwich with a great attempt at guacamole, what he was sure was supposed to taste like fruit punch and an apple for dessert. Good thing he brought snacks, lots of them.

"Hey John, you're not the only first year at this table you know, Robbie here is at the prime of his youth and has decided to join us after a brief stint over at Klippen camp"

"What camp?"

"Klippen camp, it's the camp at the other side of the river-lake beach thing." says Robbie "It's basically hell but with hot chicks with issues and rich daddies to ship them off"

"Yeah, cause that sounds like hell mate." says Mike

"Well it's a lot different when you're there, it's like a bloody boot camp mixed with a prisoner of war camp, you have to get up at a regular time, eat, sleep, breathe with everyone else and if you step out of line then they send you off to solitary to think about 'how you have negatively affected camp's society', I think their motto is "Together we rise, alone we fall" or some crazy thing."

Mike being the one to start the conversation feels obligated to continue it, "How did you end up there mate?"

"Better question you should be asking is how I avoided being there for a second year, basically during one of the pranks (the only way we used to find any amusement) I was sent into the forest and bumped into here, thought it looked a hell of a lot more fun than Klippen and tricked my parents into bringing me here instead. To be honest though, the all-boys in the tittle did make me think twice. Those girls just had so many issues and so much need for just a little love." Robbie says with a wistful satisfied smile on his face. John just thinks he looks like he has indigestion.

The group broke out into laughter, John of course not wanting to be rude joins in. Everyone breaks off into conversations then, some sometimes asking questions to Robbie and some just talking to the air hoping someone would catch on to their strand of conversation and finish it off. John just eats his awesome apple.

"So Robbie, what kind of pranks did you pull in hell?"

"Well it wasn't so much a prank as a dare, sort of an initiation dare. Every first year had to go through it unless you of course went unnoticed or were truly psychotic and no one wanted to touch you with a ten foot pole. I don't actually remember the dare, just that it was in the forest and that it had something to do with bees, didn't get caught thankfully."

***

John can see the idea forming on the gangly youth across from him, who may or may not be the aforementioned Hector. He can see the moment he thinks of it, plans out the wording and finally comes to the conclusion that yes; they should most definitely have an initiation rite of their own. After all, can't be upstaged by hell. John of course notices the excitement on everyone's faces, and knowing that himself, Robbie and some parrot looking kid were the only first years, makes himself as small as possible.

***

So here is the initiation rite, John, Robbie and the parrot looking kid are to sneak into Klippen camp and retrieve one item from the camp. They of course have to go through the forest (forbidden without permission or unless going to one of the activities), swim or paddle or whatever through the river-lake beach thing and end up at the camp. Then of course make their way back. They have to do this after the tour through the facilities where campers where left to hang out and get to know their roommates/neighbors. They have to be back before morning, although in reality they should be back before midnight (timing of course provided by Robbie). All three of them will set off at the same time as monitored by one person and will be spread out at the edge of the forest.

After having toured the facilities (bathrooms explained to them, rugby/football field, pointing at what was in the forest, canoes, swimming, offices, first aid (male nurse, darn) and given it thirty minutes so that the counselors were comfortable, the pack of students set out.

***

John starts walking in just the general direction he was pointed in and he decides he likes the forest. It is warmer than the camp but generally less humid. The trees provided shade and he highly doubts there are wild beasts in here. It’s really more a patch of trees than anything else. He brought a bottle of water, a fruit bar and some raisins to eat along the way. It’s nice to be left alone with one's thoughts. He has time to process all that he had just seen.

He likes the camp; it’s modest and has a history to it. It’s a lived in camp, there is nothing new about it and that is fine. The grasses on the fields are maintained and the river looks clean. The people... well they aren't horrible, they are teenage boys, and as such they can't help if they come across somewhat cocky or rowdy. John himself has been guilty of acting up when in a crowd of his peers. It isn't out of character.

***

John has been walking for about forty minutes and the forest is frankly losing what little mystery it once held. Trees, rocks, dirt, spiders, ants, creepily quiet birds, really loud birds, ugh.

***

When he first sees it he is truly frightened. At first the pants blend into the tree so all John really sees is the white shirt and shocking black hair. Upon further inspection he sees what it is, a person on a tree, a boy judging from the backside. John isn't really sure how to proceed, he just decides to sit still and observe, after the not so shocking lack of excitement this is a welcome distraction in the forest.

***

After observing for five minutes (in reality about one and a half) John starts silently freaking out. The person is not moving. He can't even tell if he is breathing, there is a slight breeze going on and he can't differentiate between that and what should be the rise and fall of a breathing human.

***

After 10 minutes (really only 3) he decides to take action. He doesn't want to shout lest he shock the poor guy, he decides that the next course of action should be to throw a rock at him. See if he reacts. It isn't so out of the blue for stuff to fall on you in a forest (John has learned) so maybe the guy (if he is breathing) will look around and then John can move on.

He takes a light rock and taking aim throws it in the direction of his head. Nothing seems to happen. The rock John believes, after further inspection, is now taking residence in his hair. John picks up another rock and throws it in the direction of the shoulders. Nothing.

Now he’s really freaking out. This time he grabs a fairly sized rock and threw it a little below the shoulders with all his force.

And would you look at that; the mysterious guy is alive, currently falling out of a tree branch, and with a very manly squeak. Crap.

***

John now has to make a quick decision, whether he should run away, or run towards the guy. John being John runs toward him.

***

Looking at him from the front, the guy has shoulder length curly hair; his shirt has a gray lettering declaring Military Intelligence Section 6 and cargo pants. He also has a gash across his forehead, scrape in his arm and his left palm is bleeding profusely. His eyes are closed. Fuck.

***

"Just let me clean you up dammit."

His eyes are still closed, in pain John thinks, and soon after John’s outburst they open, blue, fierce, dilated, wide and right now raging. As soon as John has gotten close enough he leans in and starts checking the man. As soon as he has touched him opens his eyes wide and starts lashing out. In a calm cool voice John explains that he is just trying to help. Really he is first aid trained, he cab help. The guy has sat up and is telling him to leave in a very confrontational tone of voice, over and over. John is getting kind of heated up himself. He is just trying to help after being the cause of this bloodshed. Christ, that palm really is bleeding out quite a lot.

***

This guy is Sherlock, the name has significance to you and me but at the moment all John knows is that this guy is bleeding, in a forest, and John is to blame.

"Shut up this instant and listen to me!"

That got the guy (Sherlock) to stop his nonsense talking. What of, John could not tell you, he is frankly just focused on tone of voice (quite negative) and the cuts. The guy actually quiets down at John’s command and proceeds to glare. The guy then goes to cross his arms petulantly when he notices that by doing so he is getting blood everywhere. For the first time since he fell out of the tree, he looks down at his hand and appears startled. Like he hasn't really realized that his appendage was capable of experiencing pain or that anything has happened to his palm. He then puts his palm out and looks at John with something akin to a this-is-now-your-problem-fix-it-mr-first-aid-although-i-highly-doubt-you-can look, if looks like that really do exist, which they do.

John then sets to work, he takes his water bottle and carefully so as not to waste any he squirts it on the palm cleaning most of the blood away. Before anymore can pop up he pushes both sides of the skin together and taking the bandanna currently around his wrist he ties it up tight in a criss-cross fashion.

Next he goes to look at the gash on his forehead. It isn't bleeding profusely but it will definitely scab over and be painfully soft. He takes out a bandana from his back pocket (at this point the guy is giving him a 'fucking hell' look) and dousing it in water he sets about the task of cleaning it. Satisfied he moves on to the arm. It isn't as bad as the palm but it is still bleeding a little. He cleans it with the same bandana he used on the head. After cleaning it he reaches into his pocket and digs around.

"Please don't tell me you have another bandana in there."

John ignores the comment and just holds his hand out. He has some small plasters that he crisscrosses to close the wound and get as much coverage as possible. John sits back and looks to see if there are any other wounds. Being assured that there is nothing else he can do is at a loss as to what comes next. He thinks he should start with introductions.

"Hi I'm John, I'm from Cliff camp over that way" John adds to this explanation by pointing nonsensically in the wrong direction. "I was just walking through the woods when I saw you."

"And then you threw a rock at me."

"I thought you were dead! I couldn't see any signs of breathing."

"Because when finding a dead person, in the woods, up a tree, the natural instinct is to throw rocks at them." John thinks he sounds a little shocked but really Sherlock is just puzzled, trying to figure out the thought process behind this funny little brain he has stumbled upon, or rather who has stumbled upon him.

"Yes, well to me it was, and I'm sorry because you were clearly not dead and now you are very clearly hurt."

"Don't apologize this is nothing."

At that proclamation John isn't really sure what to say next, he was planning on saying something along the lines of 'so you hang around trees much?' when Sherlock suddenly stands up and starts walking away. John is kind of shocked at his speed when not five minutes ago he was all but unconscious. Sherlock is about three yards away when John shouts.

"Wait, don't go." At this Sherlock only hesitates mid-step, "I don't know anything about you."

Turning around, Sherlock says “And this being some quid pro quo, I happen to know so much about you."

"Well no, but I told you my name, you haven't even offered that and I just saved you from a lot of pain and a nasty infection," John says pointing towards the hands.

"Which you were the cause of, I'm sure that hasn't escaped your notice."

"I didn't mean to hurt you and I at least apologized for that."

"At least? Am I supposed to apologize for something now?"

"No, no," John rubs his hand through his hair, for some reason this boy is really frustrating, and really, he should walk away now. John doesn't walk away, he stands his ground. 

"At least tell me why you were in the tree, you owe me that much" At this point Sherlock is looking at him with a quite terrifying stare, it isn't a glare, more of a pre-emptory glare, something to disarm you. John sincerely hopes the heat he is feeling in his face isn't a blush creeping up. Now that he thinks about it, he really has no idea why he is arguing with this stranger, for some reason he just really wants to be argumentative, no rhyme or reason.

"I don't owe you anything, some piece of information about my life, you can't have it. You say I know your name but John, Johnny, oh Johnny boy I know so much more than that. For example, you say you go to Cliffs camp, clearly by your own choice, now why is that? I would say it had something to do with your parents given the state of your trainers, probably more to do with your siblings. When you said you had first aid training you weren't kidding, surprisingly though you knew more than what is taught at basic training so your dad must be a Doctor or you are seeking to work in the medical field. Oh interesting both. You are clearly a first year at the camp so this must be some sort of prank or dare or whatever kids call it but you are more interested in me at the moment than the actual dare, why is that, eager to have some tale to tell back at camp, actually interested or just nosy? No, not any of those, maybe you're just stupid, or you are failing so terribly to fit in at your camp on the first day that you are just desperate for some sort of companionship, even from some stranger who you met in the woods. I on the other hand would like nothing more than to be alone, so while I'm sure we're both charmed at having crossed paths I must really be going now."

John just stands there as he watches Sherlock walk away. He has never told anyone any those things and this guy has just spouted them off like it’s common knowledge. He is broken out of his stupor when he sees that the guy is still walking away. He starts to rush forward to catch up with him. When he finally does, Sherlock just looks down at him with the same distaste one looks upon a bug that refuses to die after having been stepped on repeatedly, over and over.

"Ah, hello again" Sherlock says with an air like he couldn't be bothered.

"How did you know all that stuff?"

"Yes well it was obvious, very loudly expressed."

"It's not obvious, to me, or my parents, or anyone else."

"Yes well everyone you’ve ever crossed passed with, except for me is an idiot, which is also quite obvious, nobody observes John, a travesty."

"And that's what you do, observe."

"More or less, yes."

"So when you say observe?"

"When I say observe I mean I use my senses, sight, smell, touch, taste, everyone has their life story written on their faces, their clothes, their steps, I use my senses and read it."

"You're serious." At this Sherlock looks at John like he’s readjusting his character and demoting him.

"Was that a question or a statement?"

"I'm going to take that as a yes. Wow that is bloody amazing. “John says in one breathless puff. At this Sherlock stops walking and like always happens John walked a little ahead until he realized his walking partner was no longer at his side. Sherlock was just looking at him a bit startled again, like he just discovered something new and isn't sure what's the proper way to deal with it.

"I'm serious, that's brilliant, and you can do that to everyone?"

"You're serious." Sherlock still has that shocked awe look about him but now it was turning more into open curiosity. Smiling, John repeats Sherlock's earlier statement.

"It's a statement, don't be stupid John. It’s just, that's not what people usually say."

John a little lost in the direction their conversation has just taken asks to what he's referring to, Sherlock points to John as if that's the answer, regardless John understands.

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off" Sherlock says this with a completely serious expression. Also a lot like it’s common knowledge, that must be a common tone for him. John can't help but smile and when he sees the reluctant, reflected smile he starts laughing heartily. It's relieving and confusing because he can't exactly pinpoint why he's laughing. When he hears a laugh that’s not his own he stops caring. When the laughter dies down he's still grinning. So is Sherlock.

"I still don't know anything about you."

“I go to Klippen camp."

"Hell?"

"So you've heard of us." This just sends them into a short giggling fit.

"I don't even know your name."

"You have to earn that privilege."

"And I haven't?"

"Sherlock."

"Sherlock." At this point John just keeps smiling. "And why are you in the forest Sherlock? I assume it isn't to just terrorize people like me."

"Well it's the first day of camp."

"So shouldn't you be in camp?" Sherlock just stares blankly at John.

In reply John says, “Yes but I'm here on a dare, you never told me why you were here."

"Oh so it was a dare, brilliant got it right then."

"Wait, you guessed? I thought this was all observing."

"I never guess but sometimes I do have to make some logical leaps."

Tired of just standing around John starts walking in the direction he came from, Sherlock follows.

"So what was the dare?" Sherlock says as he puts his hands in his pockets.

"Oh some kid named Robbie, went to your camp apparently, said that initiation rites were part of your routine. Someone then very originally suggested we do the same. So someone else came up with the idea of going to Klippen camp and taking a memento or something."

"Hmm... I don't remember a Robbie, and I was at the camp last year. “Sherlock doesn't really look too beat up about not knowing a Robbie.

"What did you do to piss your parents off? I mean that's what Robbie said that camp was filled with, posh kids whose parents can't take for the summer." Sherlock just keeps walking and when he doesn't say anything and John doesn't add John just looks over and said “Privileged information?" Sherlock just nods.

"I don't think you’re the type of person to know someone like Robbie." John changes the subject.

"True I only know my roommate Lestrade and some people sprinkled about that have managed to catch my attention."

"Have I caught your attention?"

"What?"

Feeling himself heat up a little John repeats himself. “Have I caug..."

"No I'm not asking you to repeat yourself I'm asking as to what you want as your answer. Would you like a yes or no, or some clarification as to whether I will keep this encounter in memory?"

"Never mind."

"As you wish."

They keep on walking in companionable silence until Sherlock asks if he had gotten anything wrong, about the deductions he means.

"Well, you said siblings but I only have one, and you said that the reason I was talking to you was because of companionship but it's not, I'm just curious."

"Yes curious, I see that now, pardon my errors, I expect I won't have any by the time I'm twenty."

"You really do do this on a regular basis that is truly amazing." Sherlock just answers to this with another smile that does quite a lot for his face, John thinks. It's rewarding to know he has the ability to make someone so obviously smart like Sherlock smile, and not because he was laughing at him.

John notices that they are nearing his camp. Not wanting to go just yet he sits down beside a trunk and motions for Sherlock to do the same. After some prodding and blank stares he does just that. It’s a bit awkward at first but then they start some light conversation. They talk about their respective camps, some more of Sherlock’s deductions, (apparently the disregard for his shoes when walking through a forest, yet their previous state and age, indicated that he was disgruntled with the person who had given him his shoes, his mum). They don’t always talk, there are silences most often than not, but not all of them awkward. It is surprisingly easy. When the moon starts to come out and then disappear John decides it is time to head back. He tells this to Sherlock and before he leaves, Sherlock digs into his pocket and takes out a folded piece of paper. It is a schedule for the opening day at camp Klippin. "For your bet". John tales it and with a wave and uncoordinated shrug walks the last remaining half kilometer to camp. All the while a wistful smile marks his face. This camp was definitely a good choice.

 


	2. Don't need to be saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and his camp and his stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: There is a brief mention of abortion (very brief in passing, just mentioned as a deduction) so~ be warned

Sherlock wakes up with a gasp most days. That is of course when he sleeps. It doesn't matter if he's having a nightmare or a good...mare. His gasp always sounds like it's a deciding breath between life and death. His roommate on the other hand immediately opens his eyes before he is fully awake and slowly, grumpily closes them as he becomes more aware that it's the morning and he is no longer asleep. His roommate is Henry Frederick Lestrade, yes, one of those Lestrades.

This is the second year they have been roomed together and by now they have some sort of unspoken agreement as to how to live together. Henry has not found Sherlock hard to live with; this of course has nothing to do with the fact that he spends more time out of their room than in it. He doesn't question where he goes; he tried last year, even followed him. That got him nowhere, a bit lost yeah, but Sherlock eventually found him (well to Sherlock he was never lost to begin with so found is not the right word at all) and redirected him to their room.

At camp Klippen there is an honor code, he's never been able to concentrate enough to remember having it read to him but there are some points which every camper knows. If your roommate misbehaves, it is far better to report him than to let him continue to get away with the bad behavior. Everyone is caught eventually.

Sherlock Holmes is not everyone. Henry by association gets enough points in his favor to at least straddle the line between everyone and someone. So when last year Sherlock kept sneaking out and not getting caught, and when Henry didn't report him an agreement blossomed. Sherlock broke the rules, Henry enabled him and in return Henry was able to do the same occasionally. Break rules without getting caught. Occasionally being the operative word, he did get caught sometimes, but what's order without the defining disorder.

The particular morning after John’s run in with Sherlock in the forest wasn’t anything special by Sherlock’s standards. Sherlock had dedicated some time to thinking about this John person and trying to dissect him further without contact until he was comfortable with his analysis of his personality. Now all he had left of John was a mild annoyance at the fact that he had to actively try and hide his injuries. Sure he could say he just tripped and fell, but that would certainly lead to questions and a trip to the infirmary, the counselor and an attempt to put the blame on someone.

So in the morning Sherlock was forced to wear a shirt long enough to cover his arm scrape, wash the bandana and wear it across his palm(fashion statement, he wished the bandana wasn’t such an appalling shade of red), and apply some make up to his head wound. Yes make up, after last year, Sherlock felt this would be the best option to avoid punishment when he came across a fight.

There was also the mild annoyance that his palm would most likely scar. He planned to sneak into the infirmary later and get something that would help with the scarring but having waited so long he knew it was a lost cause. He was lucky he didn’t need stitches (even though they would have helped).

Now he just had to plan how to get into the infirmary. He was glad he didn’t have to work around Henry like last year, which had been mildly annoying. Henry at least is mildly more interesting than any other camp goer. His brother is some sort of cop, just made sergeant judging by Henry’s watch (gift from brother, new, wouldn’t be bought by a simple policeman as it would be considered a luxury, practical and something a new sergeant would think is needed in the field and therefore more than acceptable for normal situations). The association with his brother somehow made him slightly more observant than Sherlock was used to and while it had been an impediment early last summer (somehow knew when Sherlock was going to go out looking for trouble and tried to prevent it) it was something he had fun experimenting with.

It was pathetically easy to get into the infirmary. For a camp that boasted of such high standards of security it was quite sad. Or maybe they just had a lot of faith in their camp goers, either way he wasn’t the only one who sneaked in. Oh no, camp goers every year were able to provide for their needs while at Klippen. Why he heard last year a reformed drug dealer of seventeen had left the camp wealthier than he had come in. He was of course back at the camp this year.

The purpose of the camp was admirable, really, take some kids who by society standards are troubled, and take them away from their regular setting to place them somewhere where they can learn off each other. Interact with those trying to “better” themselves (or being forced to by their parents) for a summer full of what is supposedly lacking in their lives, regiment. Spit them back out two months later and there we have it, the reformed youth of England.

Admirable, I’m sure. This would probably have worked out of course, if they didn’t make it so easy to break and bend the rules. This was of course what Sherlock thought, for other campers, it wasn’t as easy to break the rules. As I mentioned before though, campers got off on the highs and lows of perpetrating small crimes, misconducting and getting punished.

Sherlock after having made his way across the camp to the nursing facility was able to enter almost immediately. Since they had no need for air conditioner, yet the building heated up, they usually left either the window open or unlocked. From there all Sherlock had to do was climb through (made easier by his height and weight (very abundant and then nonexistent)). He landed smoothly with on foot on the uncluttered desk, the other on the side of the bed and then quickly hopped down. He located the burn medication in the cabinet and near that some bottles and creams to help with burn scarring (no he didn’t get burned but he had it on good authority (his own) that this was the kind of medicine that produced results). He also located some antiseptics and looked fondly upon the syringes. He had lost the ones he had thanks to John but he couldn’t risk taking any more. After all, never tickle a sleeping dragon.

He stole some gauze and left quickly through the door. He returned to his room thinking of John. There was something about this kid that bothered him. Maybe it was the response to his attack or maybe it was the constant surprise while in his company. That morning he had closed the matter on this John but at this moment he couldn’t help thinking of anything else, dangerous when trying to not get caught.

He made it back to the room and walked in, Henry didn’t even look up from his bed anymore. Sherlock wondered whether he was being foolish or had actually learned what Sherlock entering a room sounded like. He’ll have to test for that later.

Sherlock addressed all of his wounds and scratches (Henry still not looking), once he was done he all but flopped onto his bed. He thought of his day (dull, lunch had been too loud, one of the girls just found out she was pregnant and was deciding to take matters into her own hands with a hanger, would have to put a stop to that somehow, maybe notify his brother) then inexplicably he thought of John. While he could explain John, he couldn’t really explain him and that bothered him. For some reason he wished to know more of John, out of curiosity, and yes curiosity killed the cat, but only because the cat didn’t follow through with it. So that’s what Sherlock did, followed through.

Knowing John, he would likely wander into the forest again soon, lord knows why, all Sherlock had to do was be there when it happened. Which is why, Sherlock found himself going into the forest whenever he could for three days until he figured that he just had to be more systematic about this. 

 

 

 


	3. With the lights turned up it's hard to hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John after meeting sherlock, it's quite traumatic you see, so traumatic it requires a chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't edit it for grammar... will eventually... like... in the very far far future, it's still good.

John enjoys life. He really does. He is of course an early riser, goes to bed…well when it happens. He has a very deep appreciation for food, very deep, and is completely in love with the future. John’s perspective on life is this: There are millions of paths out there that are all possible to end up on, some are of course more likely than others. If you see a path you like and want to pursue it all you have to do is increase your odds of arriving at the particular situation that lies at the intersection between where you are and where you want to go. Increasing your odds is a matter of being proactive, which John has been all of his life. He has never been one to stand by and let life pass him by wishing for a lucky day that something may happen, no. John believes in luck but only post-luck, as in when it has already influenced events and he can look back and make his life a little more mystical.

***

So what John needs to do, is increase his odds of seeing Sherlock again. And yes, he has finally decided that he does in fact want to see him again. Why? Well he frankly has no idea. There is just something weighing upon his thought process always redirecting it in the direction of Sherlock shaped thoughts.

When he is walking back to his cabin from breakfast his stare is always placed in the direction of the forest, whenever he sees a movement he can’t help but get closer and look for a dash of blue and black in all of the green. He has stopped trying to analyze why he feels so crestfallen whenever he doesn’t see Sherlock. Nope, now he just thinks upon whether he should just let them stumble upon each other in the forest one of these days when he’s in there (which is totally always, psh, except it isn’t, he’s only been in there three times after the last time, the time he met Sherlock, and the third time was not at all the charm, it was quite dreadful actually) or whether he should come up with a plan and go scout him out.

He is John though, and not just any John, he is _John Hamish Watson_ he was born being pro- active so that’s what he was going to do, be pro-active, he will go into the forest and look. That was decided.

***

Well, first he should shower. He did just come back from playing rugby. He was quite proud of himself, he had managed to impress the camp leader and he used to supposedly play under the RFU until he quit to… go do something or another. It had taken a week to get used to the showers at camp Cliff, they were small, smelled like wet dog until you turned the shower on and then it smelt like moldy cheese. In the end you came out smelling like the soap you used had been dropped into a batter of sulfur, hey, it was better than sweat and mud… well a little better.

After John finished his shower he went back to his dorm and just sat on his bed. He knew what he was doing; he was looking for excuses to not go, why? He had absolutely no idea. Geez, John, have an idea about anything, he thought. After waiting thirty minutes he stuffed his pockets with anything that may be useful in the forest, snacks, Band-Aids, he stopped and thought as to whether he should bring his whole damn first aid kit but after seeing how big it was he settled in some gauze tape… and maybe some more snacks. He made a point to not take more than one bandana, he knew Sherlock had been making fun of him and that was not on.

            John then goes back and sits on his bed, again. While waiting the door open and Mike comes in. He goes to his bed, peeks into his trunk and takes out some clothes.

            “Hey Mate, what are you doing there sitting by yourself? Want to go have dinner after I shower” Mike said as soon as he peeked at John just sitting on his bed staring holes into the wall as if it would solve his life problems.

            “Yeah sure I’ll just wait for you here.” John replied, showing no sign to move.

***

            John did move however. When his train of thoughts caught on to one that said ‘move, go to the forest’ he quieted his mind and followed that train of thought to the edge.

“This is it then, the last time. No going back in to look for him after this.” John mumbled to himself trying to find the courage. With one step he was in the forest and of he went.

 

 


	4. Detox just to Retox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's summer... therefore I have time to write again.

John has been walking for quite a while now. He only has his sense of direction and a certain scene in mind. Nothing more. Moments like these John can’t help but start reflecting on whatever comes up to mind. For start there is his sister, she is always on his mind. She is five years older than him, she should graduate uni soon but he sees her less and less and that bothers him immensely. He can’t help but blame his parents. Sure he loves them but they haven’t always done right by her, they are sometimes more worried about their own personal lives than their children. John has never really been too much trouble for them, he goes to school, gets slightly above average grades and doesn’t cause much trouble… well he doesn’t get caught. That’s something his sister has always struggled to do, he has always known that she enjoys being caught. Her problem is she is no longer afraid of the consequences, she was never afraid or respectful of their parents, so she breaks all the rules she can get away with, and she does in the end. As a child John would always hear her and his parents arguing, Harry defying them over and over. Mom got tired eventually and just gave up trying to do anything; she ignored her failings and focused only on her good points. Dad was always more compassionate, he didn’t take his sisters failings personally and just treated her as he always had, with love and playful remarks. John thinks he’s an anomaly, gets treated like a middle child more than like a younger child; then again, there is the cat that they got when John was six, so maybe he is a middle child after all.

Unexpectedly, John notices that the temperature in the forest has decreased and that the sunlight he walked into the forest with has decreased dramatically. Then he made the worst discovery of all, he had no bloody clue where he was. Fuck.

***

Okay. It was going to be okay. He wasn’t going to panic. In fact that thought shouldn’t have crossed his mind, he’s gotten lost before. He is ace at not panicking. First things first mark the spot. Okay, done. He will regret the loss of that bandanna. Next, next okay find north. Trees, watch… dammit his watch won’t work it’s digital. Fuck technology. Okay next thing sun, it’s setting, well it’s setting okay so roughly east, okay back to trees. Yes okay that’s north. Great. Well that’s not going to help, where does the camp even lie? Okay, figure this out John. When you wake up the sun is always coming up and rudely through your windows, so your windows face east. Great okay, so the camp lies somewhat west. Okay good. Start walking. Concentrate don’t lose east and west.

***

Okay so you lost east and west that’s fine you can find it again. Right only about 30 minutes left of light, can’t really see where the sun is, but it’s still bright. Fuck, okay that looks like the path you were walking on. But you can’t just walk blindly, not this late, could walk in the wrong direction and end up in cliffs. I need confirmation, how do I get confirmation? Remember, come on you were tested on this, remember. Shadows.

***

Sherlock was having a perfectly ordinary day at camp. And by perfectly ordinary he meant perfectly boring. So boring in fact he could only think of one solution. Well, the solution may have caused the boredom but nevertheless, thinking too deeply about these matters was never going to solve anything. Not that anything needed solving, well aside from the usual. Today had been chilly so the damn window to the infirmary was closed. Which meant, well no syringes for one, but it also meant that no one else had been able to get anything. Really it was shocking that these kids never got caught. They must have the foresight to not raise any suspicions; one of these days though someone was going to slip and ruin everything for him, well not everything, he still had his emergency tree in the forest. Inside a tree he had found a niche well hidden and clean of most wildlife (he suspected it had something to do with its strange leaf infection that made it splotchy, he wouldn’t know though. Never paid attention to trees, they weren’t necessary in London so he saw no need to fix that, soil though, well that was a whole different matter) and high enough that the speckled leaf coverage would prevent rain water from getting in. In the niche he kept a simple wooden box. Simple. Nothing to tie it back to him. Inside is _his_ needle and whatever else he may need to dull his senses enough that his skin didn’t feel like his muscles were trying to bubble out of it and that his brain would subside enough so that thinking was rational and filled with _words_ not _PoundingfeelingsSlicingcolorsThrobbingmomentsItchingpeople_ and most important of all, gave _him_ control, because it was _his_ body and _he_ controlled it. Full Stop.

This did mean however that he had to take a trip into the forest. Good thing he liked these trees, he wasn’t the only one that occasionally sought solace in the woods. As such some of the trees had stories to tell, unlike the sparse saplings in the city that had been pissed and shitted on so that all the stories were muddled and _boring_ anyway so why would he care. Dog owners were some of the worst people on this planet. So predictable, always looking for some little slice of company which they found in a dog that _calmed_ them and somehow made their life _structured_ through walks and feeding time, trips to the vet. Ugh. Digress.

***

He really was a very quiet walker Sherlock thinks. John that is. That’s why he almost walked right into his line of sight. He seemed to be walking in the direction of the beach, which was weird because why would he have any business there? There was nothing on that beach. Maybe he’s running away? Wrong, he has no reason to run away, and observe Sherlock, he has no reason to run away either. Okay, so based on what you know he’s probably… lost? Yes, that sounds right, lost like the rest of the population. He really should help him.

***

Sherlock really was going to help John, honest. But then John started being interesting again. First off, that damn bandana made its appearance again. He’ll have to remember this place, maybe he can burn it later. Sherlock thought that was it, John had marked his spot and then he was going to turn around and start walking in the direction he came from, stupid really since there are no trails in this forest so there’s no set path or direction simple minded people can be herded in. But then he looked at his watch, not long enough to realize what time it was but long enough to decide it wasn’t needed, interesting.

***

Sherlock really should come out of hiding and help John. Then John found east and west, at least that’s what Sherlock thinks by the way he seems preoccupied with the sun and is turning his body. Interesting, not many people can do that. Especially with so little sun. John seems stuck though, like he’s not quite sure what to do with this information. That’s okay; Sherlock thinks he can help him now. At least he got the information.

***

Sherlock was going to help him. But then John started walking. In the right direction may he add. So naturally Sherlock followed. Until John stopped, which was impressively about 20 minutes after he started. Sherlock is actually impressed John made it this far. Usually people get confused walking back because the forest looks opposite of what it did before, bit childish actually, people have problems extrapolating. That’s fine. But then, well, John actually turned around and checked often, and he had picked up a stick and would mark of certain locations. If you didn’t know any better (which Sherlock did), you could assume John grew up around woods.

***

Well, now Sherlock thinks he should really help. John had planted his stick in the ground and was measuring, shadows? Yes that seemed about right. You can acquire the position of the east-west line based of shadows and how their change in angles. Well, you could if, one there was enough sun and two you weren’t in a wooded area with so many trees diverting the light. So when John started walking southeast (how he convinced himself that that was the path he had be on all along, Sherlock can’t fathom and stopped), Sherlock stepped in.

***

“So John, tell me, did your take you on regular camping trips or did you need to find east and west a lot when you were in the city.” Infuriatingly, John did not respond.

Sherlock had just stepped somewhat beyond John’s line of sight but easy enough to find if he were to quickly move his eyes. But nothing happened. So Sherlock did the only thing he could think, he grabbed a pebble and threw it at John’s shoulder, childish, he knows. John jumped a little as if pulled out of a trance and immediately his eyesight went to Sherlock. He stared at Sherlock for ten seconds and then started walking towards him.

“It’s you,” John said, quite ecstatic actually, which suited Sherlock just fine.

“Yes, it’s me, always has been, now John, I regret to inform you that you are headed in the wrong direction.”

“Wicked,” that reply said in a completely serious tone, which contradicted with the smile still on John’s face, which really, Sherlock was confused as to why it was there in the first place, it just completely threw Sherlock off. How do you reply to that?

“Right, so ummm, if you don’t mind…” Sherlock was interrupted by John’s “I don’t mind” which just really threw him off anymore. He wasn’t sure what conversation John was having and which one Sherlock was trying to have. It was confusing, and not at all exciting, more nerve-wracking than anything else. So Sherlock just took his hand and pointed it in the direction of the camp. In his slowest most comprehensive (he thought) voice he said “John, the camp, is that way, in the wrong direction, you are headed in the wrong direction, understand”

“No, I’m not headed anywhere”

“I’m sorry were you hit in the head when I wasn’t looking, you were headed back to camp, I saw, I was following you, then you headed in the wrong direction, I am redirecting you.”

John at this point, well he realized what was happening, mostly that he had no idea what just happened and that he had been so focused on walking and so wound up on not getting lost or stranded or eaten by wild animals that his speech had been impaired. In other words, well, there was a problem with the words heading out of his mouth. He quickly played back the conversation and well,

“You were following me?” John said

“Yes”

“Why?”

“Because you were interesting”

“Oh”

“Yeah”

“So I’m lost”

“Yes”

“But you’re not”

“No”

“That’s good then”

Sherlock isn’t quite sure how to reply. He’s also not sure what he missed because 1) John does isn’t suffering from some brain damage and yet 2) he has a weird expression on his face that Sherlock has never seen directed at him and isn’t really sure if he wants it to stop or to continue. Thankfully he doesn’t have to reply because John starts walking in the direction Sherlock pointed him in. Sherlock catches up and walks alongside him.

***

They are walking for about 20 minutes when they pass a small brook. John being more than a bit tired decides it’s time to take a break. Sherlock just stands by awkwardly. They haven’t been talking much, it’s not awkward though, the twenty minutes have been filled with quick looks at each other and then male bravado that makes John push forward and Sherlock follow. John breaks the silence by talking about his day and his camp. Sherlock finally sits and listens curiously.

“John, I really am not interested in Rugby”, Sherlock says cutting of John’s dialogue.

“Hey I am trying to have a conversation and you aren’t contributing much”

“What about our interaction has given you the idea that I contribute to anything”

John mulls on this for a bit and then replies with a hand waving gesture that tends to imply a sort of “you know” connotation. Sherlock just rolls his eyes and smiles.

“Tell me what you want me to talk about then.”

“Yourself, the city, things I don’t know.”

“I think that last category is quite small”

Sherlock smiles again at the compliment and then waits for John to start talking again. John pulls out some snacks hands gummies over to Sherlock, he seems like the type, and starts talking about the people at his camp and their weird relationships.

John eventually gets up to walk again and Sherlock of course follows. Sherlock stops walking once they see the lights of the camp/  

“When will I see you again Sherlock?” John asks while facing away from him.

Sherlock is a bit dumfounded, does John actually want to see him again, so far their meetings have been accidental and have consisted of John talking and Sherlock contributing maybe 10%. Then Sherlock thinks of something that he’s really quite ashamed of missing this whole time.

“John why were you in the forest?”

At the question John turns to look at Sherlock and seeing no malice figures that the truth should be fine.

“I was looking for you.”

Sherlock isn’t quite sure how to respond, again, and it’s really disconcerting and he wishes it would stop happening.

“Will you at least think about it?” John asks, then he realizes he never actually mentioned hanging out again, maybe n daylight and hopefully not accidentally. So he does.

“I’ll think about it.”

***

Sherlock leaves soon after that and John just keeps walking forward. Sherlock can’t help but notice that his mind is quiet at the moment and instead of a mush of thoughts there’s just the straight linear thought progression of taking apart his time with John. The nook in his tree will have to wait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's summer... therefore I have time to write again, much thanks to locky_things for motivating me to continue this story.


	5. I know that this is chasing me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer heat wave, how do John and Sherlock cope?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title taken from Uberlin by R.E.M

The weather had been awful lately. Suffocating, counselors were calling it the heat wave of the century and urging that they drink water, wear lots of sunscreen and remain cool. Most activities were cancelled to prevent overheating. As teenage boys, they all just interpreted it as an excuse to swim 24/7 with no actual planned schedule, except meals of course. John was no exception to this rule and he was surprised by his swimming skills…well more the fact that he could swim better than approximately half of the camp. It must be a city boy thing; most of them had never actually touched large collections of water except the Thames with their pinky on a dare.

***

Sherlock couldn’t breathe. He absolutely abhorred summer. He could feel the heat being absorbed by his skin, going deep and exposing him so that he couldn’t think straight. Everything became a smear and his only saving grace was a warm bottle of water and the shade of the forest. He couldn’t even go into his room because for the moment it was an oven and radiating heat like a star. His whole world was reduced to basic survival instinct and after his water had become too hot to be of any comfort his instinct was to go into the forest and look for his little nook.

***

John was having a blast. Once the sun had lessened in its intensity he was free to lounge about in the sun breathing in the air that seemed to fill his lungs with the essence of life. Around him he could hear the sounds of the rest of his friends, yes friends, still in the lake and splashing around. They were all probably prunes but it didn’t matter, they were getting their fill of summer.

“John come join us, we’re going to play water polo and need your shark like skills.” John grinned.

“Shark? Well, I guess if you’re going to attempt to flatter me I should grace you with my presence.”

John ran to the edge of the bridge and jumped into the water. Laughing the whole time he started preparing himself for a game.  Today was a welcome rest from the activities that plagued his days. Not saying they weren’t fun, but they sometimes grew a little repetitive and because of that his mind could wander off to think about Sherlock. He had said they would meet again but it’d been three days, and now that John thinks about it, how the hell where they supposed to get in contact anyway. Smoke signals? Pigeon carriers? He hadn’t actually seen any pigeons, which was strange. Usually those little fuckers followed him around with their beady little eyes waiting for him to drop his sandwich. Do pigeons not exist outside of a city? Either way, it had plagued John’s mind that he and Sherlock didn’t have a solid way of communication. He also tried to ignore the part of his brain telling him that he was overthinking this whole matter way too much. Why did he care anyw… Owwwwww.

Turning around John saw the culprit. A volleyball that Mike seemed to have thrown his way. Thinking fast John grabbed the ball and threw it hard in Mike’s direction. It hit Mike straight in the chest then flopped lamely into the water.

“Oooh, watch out for that shark” cat called the parrot looking kid, whose name turned out to be Alfie. He was met with laughs.

“Alright assholes how about we play.”

***

His thoughts were coherent now. The heat didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore, it felt like he had control once more. He could control the rate at which heat was absorbed by his body and at which the earth inhaled it back. He could understand the world again, and while it was still horrible it didn’t make him want to drown himself.

***

He had made a mistake. It was obviously the heat. If it wasn’t so damn hot he could have thought straight and remembered that Tuesdays where when Lestrade went to his weekly exercise thing, and of course because of this all empowering heat and the fact that the kid took almost as much care as Sherlock, which was none, and had horrible coordination with his feet and where they should go. So of course he would be sent back to his dorm, and because they didn’t want him to die on the way he would be escorted. Sherlock wouldn’t be in the dorm, of course, he was in the forest. The counselors didn’t know that, they just knew he was missing. So they set up watch posts and Sherlock ran right into them, because of course they had changed them. Some girl had got caught yesterday so they would have had to find new ones so they didn’t learn. He should have been able to figure all of this out and deduced the new positions. Idiot.

At least it was cold in this damn office. It was also way too clean and since everyone here was so boring there was nothing interesting to figure out. His bones were itching to jump out of his body. Their momentum propelled them forward and Sherlock wanted to follow, he really did, but he was stuck to this chair.

***

He wasn’t sure how he started thinking of John, well he was, John seemed to now be occupying a permanent room in his brain palace. When he paid attention to the room, it was quite overbearing and quickly encompassed all other thoughts. Sherlock had said he would think about meeting again, he wasn’t really sure why he said that, well he was actually. He was put in an awkward situation and didn’t want John to think badly of him so he had quickly said what he remembered seeing in movies that his brother had made him go watch. “I’ll think about it”. As if Sherlock needed time to think about anything. And why was John worth thinking about anyway? Why did Sherlock feel the need to impress him? It’s not like he was important, he was just so simple, so expected. Well, that wasn’t quite right, he was quite unexpected, and wasn’t that just the most surprising thing ever.

***

John stared at the note that was placed upon his bed. He couldn’t actually believe this was happening. It was like something out of a chick flick, which he’s never watched, of course.

“Friday, 8PM. Northwest forest edge.  Come if convenient. If inconvenient come anyway. SH”


	6. enter the kingdom but watch who you bring home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock meet once more in the woods as arranged by Sherlock.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Title taken from Black Skinhead from Kanye West

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so... I'm not exactly sure what happened with this chapter cause I'm happy with it but I am not sure at all if I've gotten my characterizations mixed up. I like how John and Sherlock are, but is it how -this- John and Sherlock are? idk. I've thought about it for two weeks and I can't tell, so I've decided to stick with it and I'm posting it and you should tell me what you think.

It was 7:50 and John was doubting his knowledge of coordinates. Northwest, that meant between north and west, obvious. But maybe he was wrong, maybe as of yesterday the sun rose in the west and set in the east and he was in the northeast corner of the forest. Maybe Sherlock was aware of this mind boggling change because he was brilliant and knew everything and in ten minutes when he appeared he would not see John because John would be on the wrong place at the right time. John would be declared an idiot and that would be the end of their acquaintanceship.

Despite his misgivings, John was in the right place and it was approaching the right time, so when he heard some rustling in the forest he stopped his pacing (since when does he pace?) and faced the sound.

***

Sherlock wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him. First there was the anxiety over seeing John. Would he be there? Did he get his note? Was it the right room? The right bed? Then there was the sheer frustration over even caring that much. Who cares if John showed up or not? Of course he got the note of course it was the right room and it was obviously the right bed judging by well… everything. He knew he was hesitating. He had walked to the middle of the forest and now he was just standing there. Something felt weird, not weird, just in his chest there was a slight hitch that sometimes acted up when he walked and he wasn’t sure what it was which was just stupid because this was his body and he had control over it dammit! Anger of course caused him to walk on blindly in the right direction. As he approached the forests edge he saw John. John was just standing there, open to anything, open to everything. Somehow Sherlock knew that something had shifted. Sherlock had made a choice and John had made a choice.  After all the rumbling thoughts in his head he was just happy to have a sounding board for his noise and couldn’t care less as to what it was that had shifted and why he felt weird.

“Hello John”

John made a raspy sort of sound like he had been caught unaware. This was ridiculous because he had been staring straight at Sherlock for the past minute as he approached. “Hi”, he finally manages to get out. They stand around for what seems like hours just staring at each other when John makes the executive decision to turn and start walking towards the lake through the forest. Sherlock follows. John isn’t sure when it started or how but suddenly they’re talking. The subject matter is of no import. They’re just happy to have a simple conversation. Sherlock has never felt so at ease with anyone and he doesn’t realize this now but he will months down the road and really, how could he have been so stupid and not seen what was going on.

They get onto the subject of the heat wave and Sherlock is frankly shocked that any living creature was actually able to think clearly enough to remember any of it. Sherlock briefly mentions his run in with camp law but makes sure to leave out the cause. He knows how John would respond; it’s something that he hopes to avoid.

When they are close to the edge of the lake they sit down behind some trees so that they can avoid being seen.

“I’m surprised Sherlock, it goes against my better judgment but I would say you are tanned.” The scowl Sherlock sends his way is enough to send him off into giggles which are enough to make Sherlock smirk. Sherlock doesn’t fail to comment on how John’s hair has become bleached by the sun and his face is not the same as when he entered the camp so really John should be the last one to speak.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t forced to work in the scorching heat. I can’t believe they actually forced you to do manual labor.”

Sherlock was really done with this topic so he didn’t respond. He didn’t mind the tan, he thought it was rather cool and pedestrian which Mycroft would hate, what Sherlock hated was the freckles. They appeared in no discernible pattern at unexpected times and reminded him too much of the ones Mycroft was plagued with. He wanted nothing to associate him with… that thing.

John was rather preoccupied with his hands. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing. Sherlock had stopped talking, he tended to do that but John was expecting… something. Surely this wasn’t why Sherlock had dragged him off?

 Looking around he realized it was getting harder to see. He took out his small portable lantern and placed it far enough that any bugs that it would attract wouldn’t bother them but still close enough that they could observe some of their surroundings. Sherlock of course took the opportunity to tease him about his endless supplies and was then thrown into a fake sulk when John refused to share any of his flavored water and endless amount of nuts. Sherlock was rather fond of nuts.

Sherlock then delved into some story about London and his school while John laid down and listened. His eyes were closed and listening to Sherlock he started to slowly drift. He responded to Sherlock’s story, “yes, interesting, brilliant, liar, fine maybe I believe you, okay I don’t believe you” and eventually the steam ran out of Sherlock and he just stared down at John.

Looking around he couldn’t believe how ridiculous this situation was. He couldn’t even believe he was here, or that John was here or that any situation in his life could have led to this moment. Concerned that Sherlock had stopped talking John opened his eyes and sat up slowly. Sherlock no longer in control of the situation slid closer to John until they were merely inches from each other. Out of nowhere an “Okay” with no context was uttered from John with a returning tilt of the head from Sherlock. Who knows what happened after that because suddenly lips were being pressed against each other and noses were smashed, breaths lost, eyes closed then quickly opened because what?

Sherlock pulled away first but not far enough and not fast enough because suddenly he was being pushed down and John’s forehead was against his and not his lips which was frustrating. He was waiting for something. Sherlock tried to move his lips forward but John’s stayed the same distance away. Then suddenly everything made sense and as soon as his lips formed and uttered “Yes”, his lips were being pressed upon and, yes, he knew how to do this. So all at once he lifted himself and John so that he could get into a sitting position which forced John into a half straddle on knee between his legs the other one on the outside.

John decided that the best course of action was to frame Sherlock’s face with his hands and allow Sherlock’s tongue to explore his lips and his teeth and finally his own tongue that was definitely not saying no.  His mind was, it was saying -what, no, definitely no, what, how, why, when, not gay, well, shut up, what, yes, yes, yes, and yes. 

Suddenly Sherlock’s hands found themselves insides John’s shirt and god dammit he was wearing an undershirt! Once Sherlock got under that his head felt heady with skin and warmth and more than a little awkward because what was he supposed to do now? He opened his eyes and of course John had his closed which had Sherlock just looking around, looking for any cues and clues and answers. He felt John’s eyelashes flutter open and suddenly they weren’t kissing anymore. They just stared at each other with their lips mashed and Sherlock’s hand over John’s taut belly, John was wondering if Sherlock could feel it twisting and turning itself into a knot so heavy that he couldn’t breather.

Sherlock was the first to fully pull away but they were still touching everywhere. John leaned close again and just fluttered his eyelashes against Sherlock’s cheekbones, butterfly kisses. As if there weren’t enough bloody butterflies in the picture already. Without words they pack up their camp and John leads the way towards his camp. He hands some nuts over to Sherlock who eats them dutifully.

When they reach the edge John makes a flash decision. Turning he grabs Sherlock by the elbow.

“I want to see you again”

Sherlock has had time to think. He was a fool to think he was unaffected by what just happened because when John says that Sherlock feels a lot better than he did before, and he hadn’t even realized there was something not fine with his feelings. John’s grip has tightened and Sherlock knows he has been waiting for a while so he gives him a response even though he didn’t ask a question.

“Obviously.”


End file.
